No Dreams, Only Visions
by Nami Child
Summary: These are the last days of Beyond Birthday. These are his last thoughts, his last cries, and his last words. This is a peek into his mind; the last slice of rotten cake still remaining on the platter for a guest to consume. And no matter how much you try to forget him, he's always etched in our memories. Rated M for somewhat suicidal tendencies.
1. Fetch Thirteen Some Paper

_**Author's Note:**_**The inspiration to write a fic about 13 came solely from a friend of mine. This chapter is a bit short, but I think it's perfect considering the context and the plot-line. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. Review? Oh, and please share as to whether or not it was OC enough. ENJOY!**

**Nope, I still don't own Death Note. Nor do I own Death Note: Another Note. Although I wish I did... :3**

* * *

Fetch Thirteen Some Paper

**Nami Child**

It was the middle of the night. The security guards could hear the deranged sobbing coming from the cell they were watching over. They have been warned that the criminal residing in the cell was particularly dangerous and highly knowledgeable, yet they couldn't imagine anyone of greater intellect producing the noises of a mere madman. The criminal was caught only a day ago- brought in hurt, as one could tell from the bandages covering his entire body, face included. One of the younger guards, a smart fellow himself, wondered whether bandaging his face was necessary. He wondered if such an act was done on purpose, simply to shield the face of the murderer from the wardens and the like. But of course, that thought was dismissed, as a particularly old man called him for further instructions. The sobbing grew louder, the shaky releases of breath replaced by illegible screams and unreadable words.

Inside his cell, Beyond Birthday was clawing at his scars.

"Skin grows…" He whispered while rocking back and forth.

"Skin grows…. Skin grows, skin grows… Skin… Grows… Back…" He dug his nails into the healed scar tissue, not feeling any pain. Not feeling anything in particular, except the rage; the hot, liquid hatred of his own self. He hated himself. He loathed every intake of breath he took; he could not stand his ability to think so sharply. He giggled at his deranged thoughts…

"Really, really, really?" He laughed his unbalanced and unhealthy laugh and asked the emptiness in a singsong voice "Dear, dear, dear A, are you watching me up there? Are you proud of me?" Beyond's voice suddenly dropped to an inaudible whisper "It's fine, A… You can tell me. No? I'm not proud of myself, either. Ha… How did he know? He shouldn't have known… Oh, cruel, cruel, cruel. I'd like to drink his blood."

He smiled at the thought. _It would be like eating jam, except it won't be as sweet…_ Suddenly, he threw his head back and howled. He howled from within his throat, producing a frightening and a lonely sound. It lasted for about a minute or so, with tears running from his accursed eyes. But it hurt him to cry; he brought his hands up so he could wipe his eyes, and as soon as he done so, he noticed his tears were trimmed with blood. A pretty, pretty pink hue. Lovely, lovely, just like diluted jam he used to drink. Beyond got on all fours and looked around the floor… He noticed a few cracks, but nothing major that would allow him to escape. Not that he would want to, obviously. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand himself outside of the prison, for the very foundation of the world was based on vanity. Everything could reflect. _Everything._ And he, Beyond Birthday, could not stand to look at his own face, because it filled him with immense hatred. It made him sick to the point where his hands would itch with the desire to claw out his own face.

As he was crawling on the harsh, cold ground, he noticed a rock. He mouth pulled back in a delirious grin. "No more scars, Beyond. No scars, no scars." He picked the rock, fighting hard with himself as to not resemble L. L… His face contorted in fury. He allowed himself to growl as loud as possible, whilst he sharpened the tiny rock against the wall.

"All alone in a tiny cell… Bad idea, bad idea…" As the dust from the rock filled the room, Beyond decided that it would perhaps be a good idea to request some paper. Whether his request was granted or not, it didn't matter; he would still write… He would still write L a letter, even if it meant writing on the walls of his cell with his own blood.

With the last bits of energy, he managed to get up. He heard his back crack from the prolonged neglect; perhaps from sitting down on the cold, hard ground for an entire day. With his shoulders still arched, he noticed _he was under surveillance._ Nonetheless, it was fine with Beyond, as he was rather passive at the moment. He finally found the strength to bring his arms up and grip the bars that covered the tiny window at the metal door. Sounding surprisingly sophisticated he asked for paper and any safe and permitted writing utensil. He did not necessarily expect an answer, so as soon as he made his request, he put his back against the wall once more, and slid down onto the ground.

Giggling madly he whispered the prayers he heard a guard recite the time he was being transferred from the hospital to his cell. _Religion is so foolish… But so delicious… I think I might just go to church on Sundays along with other mates, just so I could hear the olden words recited._Laughing at such a ridiculous thought, he took note of the absence of the guard. _Went to fetch Thirteen paper, good boy, good boy._ And he was, indeed, correct. He knew very well that the guard had to contact to World's Greatest detective, to see if he would approve. The synthetic voice agreed that it would be best to present him with writing material, simply so he could express the rage of his loss onto the paper instead of his already scarred body.


	2. What Does L Stand For?

**Author's Note:**** I am truly one of the slowest typers out there! T^T Onto the story! :3 And no :c me no own Death Note.**

* * *

What Does L Stand For?

**Nami Child**

It has been about two weeks since Beyond Birthday's arrest. He was not aware of such a fact- he wasn't sure how many weeks he had been stuck in the filthy cell, for he lost count after five days. It was very unlike Beyond; any fact present was of use to him, however, if he had thought that the number of days he remained in prison did not matter, then it was safe to conclude that his mental state was already hurling down from "_psychotic ingenuity_" to "_fully insane_"… Not that it mattered, of course. He was fully aware that the state of his mind was on the brink of vanishing, most likely leaving him as an empty, dumb shell; but as the time passed, Beyond did not mind whatsoever. He almost wished for the matter to happen. At this point, Beyond Birthday was simply curled in the corner of his tiny cell, muttering and talking to Alternate.

"Did you know there are many ways to kill oneself, A? Well, I am sure you are an expert in that field, silly A. I was the one to find you dead, right? You looked _oh-so-dramatic_, heheh. You looked pretty with that necklace made of long, long rope. It brought out the blue in your skin…" He blinked hungrily, longing to see his friend's face again. He was still haunted by the memory; he still could not believe his best friend's suicide. Beyond had never known of A's intricate planning as to when it would be better to commit suicide, and how should he go about it. If he had known, Alternate would still be alive and B would not have been so hateful of that joke that referred to himself as L.

Thinking such thoughts has somewhat saddened the killer. He felt the familiar prickling behind his eyes and unable to hold himself together anymore, he cried. He wept as if he had seen the mutilated body of his friend again; he wept, for he had felt the similar feeling of hopelessness and fear- the fear of drowning in the abyss of inferiority with bitter flavours of madness. He kept on weeping since he knew deep down he would never get the chance to do so again.

It was the very first time he chose to cry without making a sound; he knew he should quiet his sobs in respect of his deceased friend… A friend that has always managed to draw a ghost of a genuine, warm-hearted smile out of Beyond. A friend that only came once, and always left marks upon his heart- etched so deeply, as to never be forgotten. Sure, A's dream was to become the next L; sure, he usually fell second to Beyond, no matter how hard he tried to be the very best- yet, they were still friends. They mattered more to each other than that ghastly, unreachable mirage they were striving towards.

"He ruined our lives, didn't he…?" The deranged killer whispered in the silence of his cell. His shuddering weeping has already turned into dry sobs, making him wonder if he had ran out of tears to shed. It wasn't impossible, right? One could cry until there was nothing left in one's eyes…

…Silence…

…He shifted closer to the wall, curling up tighter and snuggling against his knees. Drifting into somewhat of a jagged slumber, he recalled the locked, hurtful visions that were never meant to be remembered. The visions that were much too real to be dreams; the visions that haunted Beyond Birthday from the moment he stepped out of the Wammy grounds.

* * *

_Wammy's Orphanage_

_He heard the door being thrown open. He didn't necessarily think much of it, since it was probably just Alternate. Suddenly, awfully, blinding light filled the meticulously cleaned and organized room. Beyond calmly threw the covers over his head, not complaining about the brightness, or the stomping footsteps, for that matter. _

_"Get your lazy ass up, Bee-boy!" At the time, all pupils were required to address each other by a given letter of the alphabet. Most children made up nicknames that either rhymed with the pronunciation, or simply suited their tastes and personalities. Beyond Birthday never chose his nickname. A simply gave it to him when he realized the silent boy's love for jam, and honey, for that matter (although he preferred jam much more). Jam… The sweet substances that Beyond was addicted to. His state of mind almost depended on jam; if he was lacking it, he's be in a psychotic haze-silent, frightening and dangerous. _

_His only friend- A- knew that if Bee-boy was bothered during the withdrawals, he'd snap and draw blood, no matter who the victim was. Sometimes, A would intentionally interrupt a conversation between Beyond and another member of the Wammy orphanage, because he'd know that the conversation will soon turn into an uncomfortable exchange of words, or rather, violent remarks by Beyond. Jam-lover would point out in monotone the ways to get away with violent and horrendous murders, and then his calculative plans would be followed by a gesture- he would reach rapidly, razor-sharp fingernails brushing the cheek of the alleged victim. The confused orphan would feel nothing at first, except the intuitive reaction that would make the child reach up to the gash on the cheek, where the blood would bloom and fall in tidy little droplets. Shockingly finding fingers stained with blood the child will stare fearfully at Beyond. Unfazed, Bee-boy would ask the same question every time he drew blood:_

_"…Is that strawberry jam?"_

* * *

The rest Beyond Birthday did not wish to remember, but it still came crashing down like a hurricane.

* * *

_That day, when A had woke him up so rudely, Beyond lacked jam. Roger had forgotten to get some, even though Beyond reminded him countless times, and now the young genius had to live with the consequences. _

_"Bee-boy!" A jumped on the bed and dropped his weight right beside his best friend, making the springs bounce and groan at the impact._

_"Get up, silly!" Alternate nudged the blob underneath the covers. When Beyond didn't move his head from under the duvet, A decided to rip it away and see what was up. As the covers were finally off, he caught the sight of Beyond curled up into a small ball with eyes wide and face frozen in a horrified expression._

_"Heh, heh… A?" The only sign of life on B's face were his moving lips as he uttered, "Did you know… A copy is always a copy…?" he chuckled bitterly, "_It may never surpass the original."

_A stared at him in confusion; it was obvious that Bee-boy hasn't had jam yet, thus making him so awfully immobile. However… He has never heard B speak in such a depressing, dismal manner. _

_"Bee-boy…? Are you talking about…" He lowered his voice "…L?" He jumped off the bed and stood up facing Beyond. "I'm gonna sneak out to get you some jam."_

_ It was a week before shop-day, and A couldn't afford to wait so long, knowing that B would be in one of his deliriums if he doesn't eat his jam. Consequently, he up and went to sneak out in the daylight- with everyone attentive and watching. _

_Of course, he was caught. He was made to clean the entire orphanage for a week, but it was fine with A. He got Bee-boy his jam after all. The jam that would keep B sweet and harmless… The jam that cost A a week of merciless cleaning along with homework and the need to be #1, even though Beyond always beat him by one or even half-a-point. _

* * *

Breathless from the flashback, Beyond tried his best not to laugh at such a sacred memory. It took a great amount of willpower to control his habitual cackling at painful recollections; after all, he _was _a madman. _There is no one out there like A… Our friendship is done; he has committed suicide and I… I am stuck here… In this wretched cell. _The only reason Beyond Birthday forgot his maniacal drabbles was that the thought of those who have helped him, and encouraged him was too blessed. Although they were all wrong about human natures, and had the common, comical misconceptions of good and bad, he was still grateful for everything. But… It was funny how people felt the everlasting and pathetic need to be self-righteous and always do that sickening "right thing". Quite obviously, there is no existence of good and bad, or right and wrong, for that matter. You cannot be good, nor can you be bad. Life is merely a game; filled with pawns, kings, and other chess pieces that are controlled by someone of higher intelligence. By someone like L himself. Of course, putting a mask of goodness only makes you more appealing to the oblivious, stupid public, however, you do not have to do so. People will comply if they are fearful; people will also comply if you are charming. No matter how good or how bad your intentions are, people are made to be evil, and they will always comply…

…His thoughts trailed back to A… He wondered sluggishly if there were ever such polar friends at Wammy's after A and he left (he wondered so, simply because he wished for both of them to beware… Beware the ugly ahead of the polar opposites). Beyond opened his eyes, and his gaze fell onto the stack of empty paper and a bunch of crayons left untouched in the corner. He has not written a word to L. Partially, because he had so many things to say and no intention of ever shortening the letter, and partially because Beyond was disgusted with himself for wanting to address his last letter to L.

Beyond Birthday's shoulders twitched. It was time… Time to write what he always wanted to tell the World's Greatest. It was time to write about the horrors and the bittersweet encounters. It was time to find out what L stood for.

* * *

**A/N#2:**** Whew! Another chapter done xD Reviews would be simply amazing! **


End file.
